Small Things Like These • Claire Keegan

In the past few weeks, I’ve been less active here, but I still managed to read quite a bit, and today I’d like to introduce one of those books. It’s a book I wouldn’t have picked up on my own, but I got it following a recommendation. Contemporary literature is often rather mediocre, but from time to time it’s nice to read something more current and dip into other genres. This pretty and very short book, written by an Irish author, sounded quite interesting. Since it stands out a little among all the classics I usually read, I’d like to present it here.

Small Things Like These tells the story of Furlong, a coal merchant who grew up in a small Irish town. Thanks to a widow who employed his mother even though she had him out of wedlock, he was able to grow up under good circumstances and learn a demanding but respectable trade. Together with his wife and five children, he leads a simple yet good life. The frame story takes place in 1985 and tells how Furlong, during a coal delivery to a convent that runs a laundry, makes a discovery in a coal shed that forces him to face the horrifying yet socially accepted secret this convent hides.

The beginning of the book, which is really more of a short story, is very easy to get into, and the reader quickly becomes familiar with Furlong and his background. What stands out immediately is Keegan’s writing style. It’s simple, the sentences are short, and the scenes gain their power from this reduction. Instead of long descriptions, she focuses sharply and paints her scenes with a few well-chosen strokes. In doing so, she deliberately evokes emotions and impressions in the reader. For example, when she describes the rippling water in the church’s holy-water font into which visitors dip their fingers to make the sign of the cross. Or the specific details of what is baked at Christmas. That, I found quite impressive. It made me think of Stefan Zweig, who once wrote about his creative process that the art of writing lies in shortening the text and cutting unnecessary sentences. Keegan has done that to the maximum. That’s definitely remarkable. I’m torn, though. I like it when images have sharp contours and stand vividly before the mind’s eye. At the same time, I love beautiful, long, melodic sentences—and you won’t find any of those here.

As I was reading, I kept wondering where the author was heading. Around the middle of the book, it becomes clear, and for the statement the book ultimately wants to make, this style fits perfectly. Unlike many novellas, the conclusion here is very gentle. Instead of a loud bang, it’s more of a soft resonance that lingers quietly after reading. I found that very pleasant and fitting for what Keegan is trying to express. I’d say that both in language and message, this book is wonderfully restrained.

At the center of the book are the machinations of the Church, which, as we know today, is a profoundly criminal institution that has exploited people for centuries. I like how Keegan embeds this into the society she portrays—how this convent is interwoven with everyday life, how people benefit from the nuns’ business ventures, and how they willingly accept that this system is built on suffering. And that’s a theme as relevant as ever. In our own society, people close their eyes in exactly the same way whenever it serves their own advantage. That’s just how people are. And so everyone can find a piece of themselves in the gentle protagonist Furlong. Keegan succeeds beautifully in creating that connection through her portrayal of his thoughts and feelings, in which readers can easily recognize themselves.

Claire Keegan became known in 1999 with Antarctica, a collection of short stories, and has since published several books that have received multiple awards. She was born in 1968 in County Wicklow, Ireland, and studied political science as well as creative writing. You can clearly sense that in her polished prose. Small Things Like These was even adapted into a film and released in cinemas a year ago.

This small hardcover book, with its thread binding, cloth cover, and ribbon marker, delighted me. I was pleasantly surprised by its high quality. I loved holding it in my hands—it feels valuable despite its few pages. You rarely find books produced this well anymore. The crow printed on the cloth cover fits perfectly and echoes one of the many images Keegan uses in the book to give the place—and what lies behind it—a face. Wonderfully done.

On Arte.tv there is, once again, a short but wonderful documentary about Claire Keegan’s work: https://www.arte.tv/en/videos/118699-001-A/claire-keegan-a-voice-against-injustice/

Conclusion: Small Things Like These is a pleasantly understated book that captivates with its pared-down composition, its vivid imagery, and its sensitively told story. It’s not a masterpiece, nor an exciting, page-turning story. Its charm and atmosphere lie in the quiet nuances, in the carefully chosen moments and scenes. An enjoyable read that is certainly worth recommending, though it probably won’t stay with me for long—it’s simply too brief and too subtle for that. The physical book itself is beautiful and of high quality. For those drawn to its blurb and presentation, I can recommend it without hesitation.

Book information: Small Things Like These • Claire Keegan • Steidl Verlag • 112 pages • ISBN 9783969990650